


I can keep my mind intact by getting on with a new mission

by sothisiswhatsnext



Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: hamid is also there but only for a bit, here you go, hey charlie?, welcome to procrastination central
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:22:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23826787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sothisiswhatsnext/pseuds/sothisiswhatsnext
Summary: It's finally been seven days. So why is Wilde still so distant?
Relationships: Zolf Smith & Oscar Wilde
Comments: 20
Kudos: 48





	I can keep my mind intact by getting on with a new mission

**Author's Note:**

> charlie michael had a thought, i was procrastinating work, here we are  
> this isn't the best thing i've ever written, i don't think, but it's pretty good for about half an hour  
> call it a sequel to heather's "What if what you do to survive kills the things you love?," if you want  
> title from a new mission, by josh whitehouse

The days pass, in a blur of motion and words. It’s seven days, though it feels both longer and shorter.

Hamid only realizes it’s been a week, trapped in the dark, when the lock clicks open and Oscar lets them out. He’s stood in the doorway, silhouetted against it, and the only thing he says is “you know where to find me. Take as much time as you need.”

Zolf draws his eyebrows together, confused, but when Hamid shoots him a concerned look, he says, “I’m sure it’s fine. This is rough on him, every time. Go get a bath, I’ll check on him.”

\---

When Zolf tried the door to Wilde’s office, he’s surprised to find it locked. He takes a second, listening for the usual sounds of quill on parchment, and when he doesn’t hear anything he takes a step closer to concern.

“Wilde?” He says, knocking.

There’s no response, which is even more unusual.

He tries the door again, not expecting anything different, more to convince himself of the truth.

 _Damn_ he wishes Sasha were here.

When he catches that thought, he takes a sharp breath. He gives himself a moment to process it, then moves back to the problem at hand.

Zolf doesn’t _want_ to force the door, but from the evidence it’ll probably go better than the alternative. He sets his feet and shoves, until something in the lock cracks and the door slides open.

He almost doesn’t believe his eyes, even as he starts towards Wilde on instinct before he’s processed anything. Once he passes the threshold, his ears pop and sound returns, and things suddenly feel far more real.

Wilde is sat at his desk, head in his hands, shaking with the kind of sobs that are more ragged breath than tears. He looks up as Zolf enters, eyes red and mascara tracing lines down his cheeks, and tries to give a grin. It’s a pitiful attempt, a mockery of any expression he might want it to be.

Zolf doesn’t say anything, just wraps him in his arms as another ragged sob escapes Wilde’s throat.

“I didn’t-” he starts, and the sentence is broken by a shaky breath.

“I didn’t kill you,” Wilde says, silver tongue ground hoarse by tears.

“No,” Zolf says, rubbing the other man’s back. “You didn’t.”


End file.
